Warning: Graphic Depictions of People Destroying Brain/Liver/Nerve cells
Warning: Might be the first in a series.

Fear and Loathing in Pallet Town
A Pokemon/ Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas fusion 

	I had around thirty five hundred dollars worth of drugs on the back of
the girl's bike. A quarter pound of really good weed, bought off some
kid named Gary, three small vials of ether, a couple of bottles of
downer, uppers, lefters, righters, writers and editors, plus the three
bottles of liquor in my backpack. I don't measure them in volume, rather
from small to medium to large to extra large. I had a large, one medium
and an extra large in there, of a variety of fine vintages and flavors.
I had gotten that weird doctor guy to forward me the money before I
left, telling him it was travel expenses. Then I was on the road.
	I leaned back, feeling the wind blowing through my hair. The thousands
of prickling sensations sent my teeth on edge. No, wait. That was the
honking sound behind me. Behind me, perched on top of the pile of shit I
had on the rat trap I heard a loud "Peeka Peeka!"
	Ignoring it, I pulled hard on the handlebars, evading the large truck
that was poised to crush me and my little buddy. Pekachu freaked out a
little, seemingly chasing his own tail as he relieved his stress. Oddly
enough, I found this funny, but then there are a lot of things that
strike you funny after you just downed a half bottle of ether. It was so
funny, in fact, that I lost control of the bike and drove off the road.
Into a ditch. Which, fortunately for me, was not filled with anything,
so all that happened was Pekachu flew off the bike and into the ditch,
rolling for a couple of minutes.
	I leaned the bike and myself over, panting between chuckles. I liked
the bike, and I'd dubbed it the Great White Shark, after both its color
and demeanor. Granted I hadn't run into many real sharks, but I did
watch a lot of nature shows over the years and I think I've got a good
grasp of a shark's personality. Mean and unforgiving, just like the bike
I was riding. Sure, I'd stolen it from a chick before I left, but that
didn't mean it was a girl's bike. As I saw it, I was doing her a favor,
since I doubt there was a woman alive who could handle this pedal driven
monstrosity.
	I righted myself, deciding here was as good a place as any for a rest
break. Still chuckling at the hole Pekachu had made for himself in the
ditch, I reached into the package on the back of the bike and started
feeling around for something to take the edge off my lack of food. 
	"Eeny meenie miney mo," I said, finally settling on one of the vials
inside the package. I pulled it out, popped a couple pills from it and
put it away without reading it. Somethings are better left to the
imagination to decide.
	Shouldering the bike, I grabbed Pekachu, who was still stuck in the
hole he'd made. Pokemon can't hold their liquor. 
	I should know. I'm Ash Ketchum, and I want to be the greatest Pokemon
Master that ever lived. Even if that means fighting my way to the top of
the Pokemon Drinking League on my own. By the end of the trip I'll have
Pekachu so resistant to drugs that the little bastard will be able to
drink thirty times its own weight in booze without breaking a sweat. 
	Ah, man, I popped a bunch uppers. Time to get back on the road. Yeah,
the road. Where was I going again?

	Misty was still dusting herself off as she went towards the garage.
That little bastard Ketchum had stolen her bike. He was going to pay
dearly for taking that pedal driven monstrosity. Not like he could
handle it anyway, she thought as she lifted the garage door with a
grunt. Dad's Harley stood right in the center of the garage, with her
own, smaller version right next to it. Dad wouldn't mind if she went
after Ketchum. Especially if she didn't tell him until she was well out
of Pallet Town. Besides, she had a bike race to enter in a couple of
weeks.
	She grabbed the back pack that her dad made her keep ready in case of
an emergency and threw it into the saddle bags positioned on the side of
her bike. Reaching into her pocket she pulled a pair of sunglasses on,
and dug out a cigarette. Kicking the engine on, she lit it with the
Zippo her dad bought for her for Christmas. The loud rumbling noise was
echoing in the garage, so she flicked her toe and shifted the bike into
first. Slowly at first, then rapidly speeding up, she turned onto the
main road, determined to find Ash Ketchum and that little rat shaped
Pokemon of his. And get her damn bike back.

Author's Drivel:
	I don't know why, so don't ask.

	As far as continuity goes, this will not follow either Fear and
Loathing or Pokemon. The characters are all of age (in Holland) to
consume any or all of the substances listed. Just havin' a little fun.

Jerico Mele. Jmele@brandeis.edu, www.undergrad.brandeis.edu/~jmele,

All character are not copyright Jerico Mele. There is no attempt to
profit from them.